Stop and Stare
by jenlovesbones
Summary: "He's not her partner. He's forced his way into a role he hasn't earned. He's been acting out scenes from his book. He's fooled himself into thinking he's someone he's not. She deserves better." Hospital scene during the S4 premiere 'Rise' -One-Shot!


**_*waves* Hi everyone! You know when you say "I'm never going to..." do something-That's the beginning of the end. For example, I said I'd never jump fandoms, but here I am, being a fandom polygamist. To my Bones readers... well, you should be watching Castle too, so hopefully, you'll read this! _**

**_Also, I don't like songfics and writing in the present tense... yet, this fic has both of those problems and I like it anyways. There are exceptions to all rules I create for myself, apparently. :)_**

**_This is only spoilery if you don't know anything about Monday's season premiere. The song is One Republic's Stop and Stare, aka "The Nikki Heat Song." And it's dedicated to my (kanga)Roo, lalaurala-bones, who tweeted live with me while watching Castle via often crappy livefeeds almost every Monday during season three from the Land Down Under. And thank you to the AhMAZING JSQ79 for the beta. :)_**

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><p><em>...Stop and stare...<em>

Castle stops when he reached the nurse's station on her floor, waiting for hers to return to the desk. He has stayed away from the hospital for a day, and since he isn't family, he has to come here to get updates on her condition.

Because her nurse this time of day… she is a fan Nikki Heat. And promised him she would keep Jameson Rook informed.

So he waits. He can see her door from his spot, and he feels as restless as a gambler in a casino. But he stays where he stands, simply staring in wait.

_...I think I'm moving but I go nowhere..._

The nurse returns and updates him on her condition. She has had few moments of lucidity, talkative when awake as her body broke free of the drugs and hopeful prognosis for recovery. None of it is new information. Which he supposes is a good thing, since the prognosis is positive.

He thanks the nurse and looks again toward the door to her room. He hasn't seen a glimpse of her since he was running behind her gurney as she was rushed into the ER. He's glued in place, unmoving toward her as he faces her door, trying to summon the strength to turn away from her yet again. It's for her own good, he tells himself.

It's for the best, he repeats.

_...Yeah I know that everyone gets scared..._

Minutes or hours later, he walks toward the elevators, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a shaded window. He looks 10 years older than he did yesterday. And yesterday, he thought he looked 10 years older than he had the week before. Add in a fight with Alexis. A fight with Beckett's boyfriend. Before that, a fight with the Captain. And a fight with Kate…

_...But I've become what I can't be..._

He's stuck in his head. This, all of this… It is _his_ fault. She was shot chasing ghosts in the name of justice for her mother because he was curious. Because he thought all mysteries deserved to be solved. She may have been circling the rabbit hole, but he's the damn rabbit that dug it for her. He doesn't deserve to see her, to talk to her, to receive any sort of reassurance that she's alive and will recover. He doesn't deserve… her. Period.

He's not her partner. He has forced his way into a role he hasn't earned. He's been acting out scenes from his book. He's fooled himself into thinking he's someone he's not. And she deserves better.

She deserves everything.

So he's not going to go see her. Losing her, staying away from her when every instinct in his body tells him to run toward her… this is his punishment.

Just as the elevator dings, alerting him to proceed forward, a noise from behind him drags his attention from his objective of leaving to who he was determined to leave behind.

_...Stop and stare..._

He doesn't walk there manually. But he ends up outside of her door anyways, watching nurses rush into her room, machinery rolling in, and monitors display a flat-line in sync with a harsh squeal. His own heart stops. His lung are no longer trying for air.

He slumps forward onto the window of her room, staring at the mass of people she is surrounded by, blocking his view of her. Suddenly, he sees the monitor flash before he registers the sound of a steady beep. Her heartbeat returns.

He breathes. His heart pumps for another beat.

He swallows hard as he tries to steal a glance at her, only to realize at the sight of long brown hair and flailing arms that she's actively moving around.

As the whirling sound of blood rushing to his brain calms allowing him to focus, he can hear a doctor arguing with her.

_…You start to wonder why you're here not there…_

He realizes she's trying to sit up, and she moans in loudly at her foolhardy attempt. He understands now that she pulled the equipment from her body on her own, setting off the alarms.

He almost laughs at the absurdity of the whole thing. She's in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound. But she's Detective Kate Beckett and she will not be deterred from her mission of getting the hell up and out of here, back on the job.

_...And you'd give anything to get what's fair..._

She has places to go. A gunman to catch. Two murders to seek justice for.

She won't be reined in by monitors and small, gaping wounds in her body. She has work to do. She has a fight to finish. And if she has to fight off every doctor, nurse, orderly and over-concerned member of her immediate circle in order to do it, that's exactly what she will do.

She's Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. She has a job to do and asses to kick. And she can't do it wasting time tied down to machines. She can't let another trail go cold. She's so close, she knows it. And God help anyone who might try and stop her now…

Her thought processes slow and the adrenaline she was feeling wanes. They, her prison wardens, have given her something that's dulling her thoughts and reflexes. She can feel herself being pushed back into bed. It's not fair…

_...But fair ain't what you really need..._

It's in the return to her horizontal position that she sees him at the window. She sees him for the first time since he was the last person she saw. She sees him and he sees her, and even if they pumped her full of another round of drugs, she's fairly certain she couldn't stop looking at him if she wanted to.

She makes an infinitesimal motion, beckoning him closer. And his breath catches yet again, because he can't get closer. The closer he gets to her, the more she hurts. And he can't bear to be at fault for another ounce of her pain. She sees the fear in his eyes.

But she looks at him, looks into him, and she knows in that moment for as long as he lives, he's never going to deny her anything she asks. Suddenly, she feels powerful and weak and something else she can't really name, through the fault of the sedatives, she's sure, as he stares at her and finally, moves into the room.

He's here, but he's keeping his distance and that is not what she needs. She waves him closer, and he hesitates. She sees terror in his eyes, the tension in his stature. Richard Castle isn't the kind of man who can stand still for long, yet she could mistake him for a rock at this moment.

So, she tries words instead.

_...Oh, can you see what I see?_

"Castle," she gasps, only now realizing how little voice she has to lend to her intimidating presence.

She knows he is running on instinct, needing to help her somehow when he moves closer to her bed and pours her a glass of water, then brings the straw to her lips. Anything to help her.

After she's done with her sip and swallows hard, he puts the cup down and takes a step away from her so quickly she is surprised.

But she saw it. The panic in his eyes does a poor job of masking his guilt. The blame. It's the way she imagines she looks every time she's put him in danger. Every time she hasn't insisted he stay away. Every time she thought he might go away for good after pushing him hard enough.

She doesn't blame him for anything. He's the one who tried to keep her grounded. He's the one who's refused to let her face any of her demons -her demons- alone. He's the one who's tried to protect her from herself. And he's even the one who, as she remembers it, tackled her to the ground at the sound of a sniper's shot. He would sooner throw himself in front of a bullet for her than see her in pain, yet he's standing in front of her, panicked that he'll cause her more pain.

Richard Castle has made her feel a lot of things these past few years, but pain has rarely been one of them.

She can see his guilt. She can feel his fear from where he stands. And she understands what they mask now.

Her head is foggy and now is not the time to try and verbalize all that she now knows. So she does the most she can manage.

She raises her hand toward him and pleads with him using only her eyes to come closer.

She doesn't set her hand down until he relents and grabs it.

They're safest together. With one another. Her brain may be fuzzy, but she can see this clearly too.

"Will you stay with me until I wake up again… partner?" she whispers.

His face contorts in pain at the title, but he can't deny her anything, and this… this one is easy compared to every other hurdle and problem and complication and conspiracy and betrayal they have faced to date.

So without breaking their grasp, he grabs for a chair nearby and sits down, resting her hand on the bed in front of him.

She musters up the strength to squeeze his hand and that small gesture breaks what little resolve he had brought into this room with him. His head collapses forward in a shuttering sob of breath, and he rests it on their intertwined hands. Her thumb brushes softly against his cheek.

"Promise you're not going anywhere?" she asks as her eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

He sighs in defeat, knowing he never really had a choice in the matter anyway.

"I promise. Always."

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><p><strong><em>I'm always appreciative of any time you take to share your thoughts! Thanks for reading! :)<em>**


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